


All I Want For Christmas Is You

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Comment Fic 2016 [120]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 17:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8722369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, "All I Want for Christmas is You" (Mariah Carey)."Major Lorne arranges for Atlantis's Christmas celebration and base-wide Secret Santa exchange. John waits till the very last minute to pick a gift for his exchange partner Rodney.





	

John hadn’t actually believed it when he learned that Major Lorne, his trusty 2IC, his ever-present, wry, efficient Lorne, was an artist. A painter, no less. Lorne was so buttoned-up and straight-laced and by the book that John couldn’t imagine that the man had a creative bone in his body.  
  
And then Elizabeth said she wanted to do something to mark the Christmas season - the non-denominational Earth northern hemisphere mid-winter celebration - and she tasked Major Lorne with making the arrangements. And Lorne went crazy.  
  
In a perfectly-controlled, organized Lorne sort of way. He commandeered negotiators to make special trade agreements for baking supplies. He commandeered an entire platoon of Marines for a baking spree. He insisted on decorating the mess hall. John walked by and saw Lorne standing in front of the serving counters, gesturing widely and saying to Teldy,  
  
“This is my vision,” and suddenly John could see it. The artist in Lorne.  
  
Because the decorations? Were beautiful. Massive 3D origami snowflakes that had been painstakingly folded and assembled by a team of engineers under the direction of Kusanagi and Zelenka. Smaller snowflakes, delicate and lacy, knitted and crocheted and whatever else by volunteers from all departments. And a giant mural, along the entire wall behind the serving line, of Christmases around the world. The Kremlin, with snow-topped domes. The Eiffel Tower. Big Ben. Lady Liberty. Christmas trees and wreaths. Gingerbread houses. Santa and his sleigh, reindeer and elves. There had been a massive sheet tacked to the wall for weeks, and then one day - the mural.  
  
Lorne had painted it himself, the KP marines said. After hours. Everyone was kicked out, and he was in there alone, with brushes and bottles of turpentine and music.  
  
The most elaborate scheme of all, however, was the Secret Santa drawing. It was to encourage people on Atlantis to get to know each other, so rather than each department - military, hard science, soft science, civilian - having their own drawing, it was base-wide. Because they were in another galaxy and shipping space on the _Daedalus_ was limited, people were encouraged to come up with thoughtful homemade gifts.   
  
Apparently Bravo Company had a barbershop quartet, and they could be commissioned for singing telegrams with cheery Christmas messages or a personal serenade, song of the sender’s choice. There were baked treats, portraits, books, hand-forged knives (those were immensely popular among the military crowd). Someone was assembling little emergency off-world kits, complete with thermal blankets, hand sanitizer, tiny toothbrushes and toothpaste, and either tiny-sized classics to read or tiny books in which to write or draw. Each kit was available in a hand-sewn drawstring bag with the owner’s name or a decorative insignia embroidered onto one side of the bag. There was homemade candy and savory treats. There were newly-coded computer games or short films.   
  
So many options.  
  
And John didn’t have a clue about what he wanted to get.  
  
By some stroke of luck - or, perhaps, massive misfortune, he’d drawn Rodney’s name. Everyone else seemed to have drawn names of total strangers, and there was lots of chatting and finagling on the base as people tried to do recon on their recipients without tipping their hands.  
  
John and Rodney were best friends. He knew Rodney inside and out. Or so he thought.  
  
Lorne was planning a magnificent holiday feast, and after the meal, the gifts would be opened, and then the gift-pairs would be revealed.  
  
As the meal drew closer, John grew more and more anxious, because he had no idea what to get Rodney.  
  
They were on a team together, they regularly risked their lives for each other. But what did John know about Rodney? What music did he like? What books did he read for fun? What had he done for fun, before coming to Atlantis? What was his favorite color?

The night before the big Christmas feast (Lorne was in the kitchen baking like a madman), John still had nothing. He let himself get drafted into helping the KP marines frost little cake bites that Lorne was making. They were being frosted to look like Christmas presents, and Lorne was arranging them artfully in a pile.  
  
As long as John was working with his hands - very carefully using an icing bag to put little bows on each gift - he didn’t have to think.   
  
The look on Rodney’s face, though, when he didn’t get a present -  
  
“I need to take a break.” John set down the icing bag and stepped back from the kitchen counter.  
  
Lorne nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He lifted his chin, and another Marine stepped up to take John’s place without missing a beat.  
  
They wouldn’t even notice he was gone.  
  
And finally John gave in. He went back to his quarters, scrawled on a piece of paper, _Whatever you want, IOU_ and put it in a decorative box, and he carried it into the mess hall, where Lorne had arranged a giant tree (made from found branches on various planets, a truly Pegasus tree). Rodney would recognize his handwriting. It was lame. But it was -  
  
John skipped the Christmas meal. Claimed he was feeling sick. Declined a visit from Keller. Just wanted to be alone. Let her think he was being an overly-macho soldier. He couldn’t face Rodney’s disappointment.  
  
Naturally, Rodney came and found him while he was sprawled face-down on his bed, trying to sleep.  
  
“Anything I want?” Rodney stood beside John’s bed, clutching the piece of paper.  
  
John shrugged one shoulder, avoided his gaze. “Yeah.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
“Are you _sure?_ ”  
  
John pushed himself up. “I am. I’m sorry. I couldn’t think -”  
  
“Because I want you.” Rodney swallowed hard. He was flushed and fidgeting with the piece of paper.  
  
John stared at him. “You mean -”  
  
“You didn’t come to the dinner, and you didn’t get your gift.” Rodney held out a little plate. On it was one of those little Christmas present cake bites. “Open it.”  
  
John stared. “You mean eat it?”  
  
Rodney shook his head, thrust the plate at him. “Open it.”  
  
John balanced the plate carefully on his lap and saw that this cake bite was different from the rest, that it indeed had a lid. He plucked it aside carefully, wincing when it ruined the frosting job, and peered inside. And saw -   
  
A tiny cookie. Shaped like a heart. He fished it out gingerly. Written on one side of the heart in chocolate frosting was a name. Rodney.  
  
“I realize it’s terribly sentimental, but Lorne talked me into a grand romantic gesture, and -”  
  
John looked up at him. “Lorne?”  
  
“I might have, uh, bribed him. To arrange certain aspects of the Secret Santa exchange.”  
  
John set the cookie on the plate and set the plate aside, and Rodney’s expression crumpled, but then John was on his feet. He tugged Rodney close, gazed into his eyes.  
  
“You mean it?”  
  
“Mean what?”  
  
“That you want me?”  
  
“Yes. Why?”  
  
“Because I want you, too.”  
  
Relief flooded Rodney’s gaze. “Good. Because all I wanted for Christmas this year was -”  
  
John kissed him.  
  
When they separated for air, Rodney said, “That. I wanted that.”  
  
“Just that?” John asked, starting to unbutton his own shirt.  
  
“And more,” Rodney said, reaching out to help him. “Much more.”  
  
And that was the last they spoke coherently for several hours.


End file.
